


I Owe You

by fluffbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffbatch/pseuds/fluffbatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You may be the biggest git in the world, but you're still my best friend, and for that... and for that, I owe you the world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Owe You

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing anything Sherlock related, so I thought I'd have a go at some fluff, post-Reichenbach style. Enjoy!

Sherlock sat pensive in his leather chair. He had entered 221B for the first time in 16 months last night, at one in the morning, when John would definitely be sleeping. He wanted to avoid his flatmate for as long as possible while being given time to think about how he would explain himself. He anticipated his friend would be waking in approximately five minutes, making Sherlock sweat at the thought.

The leather of his chair squeaked beneath him as he shifted uncomfortably, the sound filling up the deafening quiet. He stood up and paced, directing his gaze from the spray painted smile on the wall papered wall to the mirror above the mantel as he turned. He paused in front of the mirror, taking in his appearance. His clothing hadn't changed; he donned the same calf-length coat and periwinkle scarf that he always did. His face, however, had changed dramatically. Sunken in features reflected a ghastly image back at him. He never had eaten much, but in the 16 months that he'd been away from everything he held dear, his eating habits worsened, and so did his health. 

He brought a hand up to his translucent skin, tracing the highly defined cheekbones, only hoping John would be in better condition than he was.

A small creak from upstairs broke the silence. Sherlock turned his head up to the ceiling instantly, knowing that John was now awake. Footsteps against old wooden floors caused more sounds to shake Sherlock's composure, his nerves increasing with every step.

He heard the door open, followed by soft steps down the stairs. John came into view, head low, staring at his feet as he beelined for the kitchen, Sherlock's presence going unnoticed. 

John looked worse than Sherlock did. His depression linked eating disorder was clearly showing, as his dressing gown hung off of his skeletal frame. His face, once full and lighted was now shadowed and haggard. Sherlock felt a pang of sympathy, wishing he could have stopped his friend from hurting sooner.

"John," Sherlock said quietly, his voice causing John to jump and turn toward him in disbelief. 

"Sherlock…. I, I don't… oh, oh God, oh God no, no… you, you're--"

Sherlock rushed to his friend to steady him from falling, the sudden shock of a friend back from the dead clearly too much for the army doctor to handle, just after waking up.

Sherlock held John by his arm as he calmed down, looking up at Sherlock and searching his eyes to make sure he was really there. John straightened up and stared Sherlock in the face. Anger, frustration, pain, embarrassment and grief coursed through his veins.

"John, I-" Sherlock's words were cut off with a swift punch in the face from his friend. Sherlock barely moved, as he expected an act of violence from his flatmate. He looked down at his feet, shifting nervously at the possibility of being rejected before he could explain himself.

"That's what you get for making me watch your death and then not telling me you had faked it all along," John fumed. He cracked a small smile, anger leaving him as quickly as it came.

Sherlock stood still, eyes to the ground, nervous that his friend would reject his explanation. "John, Moriarty had planned to kill you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade, and I had to jump to save you-"

This time, John silenced him with a hug. Sherlock's eyes widened in shock, the unexpected show of affection throwing him off guard. After a few moments, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, resting his head on his flatmate's, closing his eyes in contentment before speaking. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but there was no telling if the assassins were still after you."

"Just shut up, Sherlock," John laughed into his coat, "You may be the biggest git in the world, but you're still my best friend, and for that…" John pulled back, looking into Sherlock's face, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth.

"And for that, I owe you the world."


End file.
